


Bullet

by SerClegane



Series: Jesse the Shrike [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerClegane/pseuds/SerClegane
Summary: From one-word prompt of newfalloutkinkmemeRaiders talk about guns and bullets and the meaning of life.A|N- Overboss quotes Emily Dickinson.





	Bullet

That new Overboss was wild. Wild and without any sense of fashion - small, one-eyed, dirty, with ugly screaming pink warhawk and huge collection of very distasteful tattoos. And with unhealthy sympathy to those black-clad faceless creeps. No skills to proper stealth, no patience for sniper rifles - he was fast and quick and loud, like his western revolvers from Dry Gulch. But he was a gunsmith and pretty fine one. He stroked parts of rifle or gun or assorted scrap like a pet cat, tenderly and careful. And changed them into deadly, much more deadly weapons than before . So now even William, despite that man walks and talks, was obliged to thank.  
The new rifle became more heavier - heavy frame, hardened receiver, but now that baby could drill a nice hole even in the Alpha Deathclaw thick skull. Heavy and glinting with a menacing copper red - two snakes are locking in the dark wood of full stock.  
\- A fine gift, but is this for 5.5 bullets or 7.62 ones?"  
-The latter, - Overboss was shining with pride. - Fine for a kill, one shot-one bullet-one kill thingy. Like in that pretty poem about a loaded gun.  
\- What poem? - Mags Black never heard anything about that poem and she had education, good Upper Stands one.  
\- Old poem, "My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -  
In Corners - till a Day  
The Owner passed - identified -  
And carried Me away ". Very pre-war thing. It has more verses, but I can't remember any other. If you want more, go to Boston Public Library and look for Emily Dickinson. She was very famous with this stuff.  
\- So who you are, boss?- Mags Black was a bit smitten. That brute can recite poetry without any swear. And very strange poetry, indeed. -Gun or Owner?  
\- Neither, Mags. Me and you and your brother are bullets in that gun, made to kill. And don't we love that?


End file.
